SnowWhite and the Unlimited Dwarves
by Elliot Pole
Summary: SnowWhite isn't white, and she is pure evil.  After killing her stepbrother, she is chased into the forest, where she ends up in a cottage belonging to dwarves.  Death is one of them, and each time a Dwarf dies, he is replaced be another.  Talking banjo.


**Snow-White and the Unlimited Dwarves**

Her face was as white as snow, her lips as red as cherries, her every breath as deadly as a peanut. She was the queen of virtue, the master of magnanimity, the weaver of friendship. Her name was Snow-White.

It was an obvious mistake to name her such, for everything in the proceeding paragraph is a boldface lie.

The real Snow White was a Hispanic girl, thin, kind, and someone who avoided books. Therefore, she grew up as lighthearted and carefree as Scarlett O' Hara, though she was infinitely superior to Margaret Mitchell's heroine. Snow-White had a talking banjo named Garfield, which accompanied her on all her journeys.

When she turned sixteen, her mother died. Her father, bereft of heart and happiness, went out into the dark night and got drunk as a hound. For two days he wallowed in self-pity, but as soon as his wife was buried six feet under, he forgot that she ever existed.

He went to the supermarket and met a most charming woman, the Queen of Serbia. She was so kind and gentle that he couldn't resist, and he agreed to marry her.

They had the wedding on the sixth of July, the feast day of St. Kristin. Together they lay the night of their honeymoon, and on the next day the Queen was pregnant with child.

"Oh, woe is I, who has to bear this fiendish thing!" she cried, alone in her chamber.

"If you want to be the fairest woman in the world, you must do it," said her mirror.

"But how will it make me look more beautiful? Won't it increase my thighs and fatten my hips?"

"No," said the mirror, which could not lie. "It will make you handsome, and all men around the world will beg to be your slaves."

"Fine, I believe you. I will bear the child."

And nine months later, the baby was born. However, its face was so repulsive that the father proposed the idea of tossing it into the river.

"No! It's our child, Rufus! You must let it live, for my sake!"

And her husband desisted, exiting the room.

"Ah, my mirror, who is the fairest of them all?"

"You are."

"Good," she said, after which she retired.

In the dark of night, Snow-White approached her stepbrother. "Ugh!" she exclaimed. "How could father agree to keep it? Well, I'll make it look better."

She went to a drawer and pulled out a steel knife, then returned to the candlelit room in which her brother lay. But she knew that the child's cries would awaken somebody in the house, so she tied a sock around it's mouth to muffle it.

The knife was sharpened on a desk, and Snow White placed her brother on the floor. She took some duct tape to keep his arms in place, for even though sound would be unable to travel through the cloth, he would probably squirm away.

Next she took the knife and in one rapid swipe chopped off his right leg. The baby began to cry, but even Snow-White could barely hear it, for the sock was dense. As she attempted to severe his other leg, it kept moving about, until the blade went straight through his foot, causing blood to splatter over her hands.

The knife was now caught in the boy's skin, and Snow-White, being lazy, did not feel like going back to the kitchen to get another. So she took a taper and flamethrower, caused the taper to burn, and placed this near her brother's vulnerable head. In thirty seconds, his body was burned to ashes. Then she took a flowering pot and put the fire out before it could spread.

When the Queen arose on the ensuing morning, the first thing she did was approach the looking-glass.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"Snow-White."

"Come again?"

"Your stepdaughter, Snow-White, is the fairest woman in the world."

"But you said that after I had the baby…"

"It was true as long as your child lived, but now that he is gone, you are overshadowed by your stepdaughter."

"Why, you stupid mirror! I hate you!" She went over to the far side of the room and lifted a chair.

"Now, now, you don't want to do that," the mirror assured her.

"It would give me the utmost pleasure," she said, smiling wickedly.

"But then you'd never be able to ask me who's the fairest of them all."

"I DON'T CARE!" the Queen shouted, throwing the chair straight at the mirror and beaming as she heard the satisfying crunch and shattering of breaking glass.

Then she called forth the authorities of Siberia, and had her husband arrested for killing the prince. She knew it had to be him, for he had suggested drowning the little tyke.

On the morning Rufus was to be put on the gallows, Snow-White donned a pink dress. She did it to show she was superior to all the people wearing black who were mourning and protesting the injustice of the man's death. They did not believe that a man would drown his own son, no matter how hideous he looked. Of course, no one suspected his daughter; she was the most beautiful being that had ever lived, and no creature that lovely could be a murderer.

Snow-White was so radiant in pink that some people could not keep their eyes off her, even though they had come to see her father put to death. She had intended it that way; her father was an insignificant being who had lain with her mother who had borne her. it was she alone that mattered. She--the hope of every youth's heart. Men would love her sincerely, for her beauty, and not for the power or money she could bring them, nor for the sake of love, which she utterly despised. They would all be wrapped around her little finger, to answer he every beck and call.

The last thing her father was heard to say, before his head was permanently severed from his body, was, "Snow-White, be vigilant."

Only the parishoner was around to hear it, and his assassin who operated the guillotine. The parishoner arranged a meeting with the girl, and gave her the message.

"Ah, what's that supposed to mean?"

"That your father fears you will suffer the same fate as himself."

"The Queen would never kill me. That would be suicide."

"Still, you should never let your guard down."

"Humph," she said, brushing him aside.

The next day, the Queen called her Henchman into her chambers. "I want you to take Snow-White into the forest and kill her. Bring me back her heart."

"Certainly," the Henchman said, bowing.

He met Snow-White in the drawing room. "Your stepmother has ordered that you come with me," he told her, nonchalantly.

"Ah, whatever. It's an adventure, anyhow," the girl said to herself. She packed her talking banjo in a knapsack and went along with the Henchman.

She followed him through meadowbrush and sourpine, until they reached a small square in the middle of the forest.

"So, what have you really brought me out here for?" she asked, in a dulcet tone.

"Oh, please forgive me, Snow-White! I have brought you here to murder you, but I'd much rather kiss your finger. May I?"

"Yes," she said, extending her hand so that he could do so.

"Now I must leave you. Don't return to the castle, or she'll have you killed. Stay well hidden in the forest, please! And now I must go back."

He left her prettily watching his retreating figure.

The Henchman traveled some ways back to the castle, then remembered the last injunction his Queen gave: "Bring me her heart."

He did not feel like killing, after kissing Snow-White's finger. But there had to be a way to fool the queen. And then it came to him, like a flash of lightening. He could cut out his own heart, and deliver it to her.

The problem presented itself that once he had stripped his own heart, he would no longer receive oxygen to the brain, and would thence be dead. But it had to be his instead of Snow-White's, for no other heart would suffice.

A blue jay flew down from a great height and, noticing his melancholy, spoke to him. "Whatever ails you, merciful Henchman?"

"I must cut out my own heart and deliver it to queen, but once I do I will be dead and unable to take a step further."

"Why, that's no problem at all. Allow me to take your widget and cut out your heart. Once it is done, I will transform into your likeness, and the Queen will never know the difference."

"What a clever blue jay you are!" said the Henchman. He took out his widget and gave it to the bird, which, holding the handle with its beak, drove it through one side of the Henchman's chest, drawing blood. Then he slammed it into the other side, cracking some ribs. Above and below, he struck, until the Henchman was quite dead. Then the blue jay removed his heart, and his wings transformed into arms, his beak into an aquiline nose, and his chest became paunchy and brawny.

The new henchman carried the heart to the Queen, who was so pleased that she gave him the privilege of being scratched by her sharpened fingernails.

Meanwhile, Snow-White and her banjo traveled together until they found a cottage, which they entered. There were seven small beds with names printed on them: Jolly, Unwise, Melancholy, Angry, Boredom, Death, and Worried. She wondered what creatures could live in such a place, but all the banjo said was, "I don't like the looks of it."

She noticed some tiny cups and drank out of one. "Ugh, mead!" she cried. "Couldn't the inhabitants of this house have considered my delicate health?"

"I don't believe they knew that you would be coming here."

"Well, I need tea with sugar and graham crackers! I want to go back to the castle."

"Snow-White, it would be foolish to return. The queen thinks you're dead, and what will happen it your ghost shows up on her doorstep? She will pursue you till death at last takes you from this world."

"Oh, Death will never come for me."

"In case you haven't noticed, WE ARE IN DEATH'S HOUSE NOW!"

She looked at the bed with the engraved name on it and gave an involuntary shudder. "Oh well, there's nothing we can do about it." Yawning, she went over to the bed with 'Unwise' written on it and drifted off to sleep.

Presently seven of the most dismal voices were heard coming home from work. They entered the house and saw that it had been inhabited, for they had left it spic and span when they went to the mountain that morning.

"Ah, what a beauty," remarked one of the Dwarves, for they were of miniature size and only such an appellation can describe them.

"It's enough to make one feel happy," said Melancholy.

"How dare you say that, you bastard!" said Angry.

"Come on, be nice," said Jolly, who was the only one who had the temerity to approach the sleeping girl.

"Oh, let him be his old choleric self. If he kills any of you, I get paid handsomely," said Death, who had a sinister face.

"I'm bored," someone said.

"You're always bored, you stupid fellow."

"I say we kill the bored one, before the wake the maiden," said Unwise.

"Okay, everybody gang up on Boredom!"

They all attacked the unfortunate, except Jolly, who was admiring Snow-White's eyebrows.

"No, no, I'm not bored anymore!" But five swords such as Dwarves only can use were drawn from five sheaths, and pieces of Boredom flew everywhere. One of his arms landed on the banjo, which said, "Why are you throwing body parts at me?"

"What's this?" asked Melancholy, coming over to the chair where the banjo was propped up. "A talking musical instrument! Boys, I think we've struck gold!"

"Gold, I think we've struck boys!" said the banjo.

"He talks funny," said Unwise.

"Speaking of gold, I'll be seeing you," said Death, as he vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Off to collect his rewards, I suppose."

"Wonder what the new Dwarf will be like."

"Guys, she's waking up!" Jolly said, and four grubby faces approached the bed.

Snow-White opened her beautiful eyes, and saw the Dwarves. "Why, hello, you must be the inhabitants of this house."

"Right you are, miss, right you are," said Jolly.

"My, you guys are just little men. Where's my banjo?"

"Oh, so the talking violin is yours?" asked Melancholy.

"I'm not a violin; I'm a banjo!"

"What's the difference?"

"I don't think that's important right now," said the banjo, who, come to think of it, really didn't quite know what the difference was.

"There's only five of you," Snow-White said, just now noticing.

"Yeah, there will be too more shortly."

"Don't you think they should be back by now?" asked Worried.

ZAP!

A flash of yellow light flooded the cottage, and two dwarves appeared. Death was pleased with his earnings, and the new inhabitant brushed soot off his shoulders.

"Now is the test. Within the next hour, we will judge you, New Dwarf. You will earn your name depending upon your actions and peculiarities."

"Death, this is—wait, we don't know you're name, do we?" asked Unwise.

"I'm Snow-White."

"You don't look white."

"It's a misnomer. My mother just thought it befit me, so thus I was called. Now, I know your names, but I can't tell you apart just by looking."

The Dwarves introduced themselves, all except the new guy. She noticed that they all wore different colored hats and had idiosyncrasies as far as dress and handkerchiefs went.

Jolly wanted to hear her how she came to be there, but Death said it would be more prudent to preserve that story until after judgment for the unnamed fellow had been passed.

"What do you like to do?" Jolly asked him.

"Well, I—"

"Would you like a drink?"

"N-no."

"Do you know how to tickle a frog?" the banjo asked.

"Tell your stupid instrument to stay out of this," Death ordered Snow-White.

"He just wants to have a laugh."

Apparently the new Dwarf did too, for he was chuckling heartily.

"Let's call him Humor."

"Let's call him Flustered."

"I say call him Clueless," said the banjo.

"Three minutes is not long enough to determine a name," said Death. "And if you speak again, Mr. Ukulele or Viola or whatever xylophone thing you are, I will take you outside and smash you against a thousand rocks. Now, let's play a game. During its course, we will come up with the appropriate name for our friend."

They started the game, which the author cannot describe, for the ways of Dwarves are difficult to follow and transcribe to paper. The important thing to know is that at the end of it they decided on Gullible.

"Ah, that name suits the squirt," said the banjo.

"If you were a man," said Death, "I'd asked you to a game of poker, winner-take-all."

Snow-White was at this time looking at Boredom's bed, and she was startled when the name vanished as if it had been swiped with an eraser, and in its stead was the name of the new Dwarf.

"Gullible, you're one of us now!" said Jolly.

And that night they had a great feast to welcome the new member of their household.

Miles away, at the castle, the Queen peered into her looking-glass. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

But the mirror she addressed these words to remained silent, for it was not of that magic that her old one had been made. And she truly believed that the girl was dead; had she not eaten her heart?

However, it came to pass that the Queen asked her chambermaid to make her a batch of chocolate chip cookies, and an urchin of rotten fame came into the kitchen while the maid had her back turned, slipping in a deadly poison. The Queen, unawares, ate her precious cookies, and her complexion changed dramatically to that of an old hag. She was confined to her bed, and the doctor suggested going to the sea to heal, for an illness never heard of before had now taken over her body. Taking his advice, she went to the beach, and there the slow poison took its toll. She was dead within an hour after arriving, and her remains scattered into the air.

News of this never reached the cottage, and Snow-White remained in hiding. But as soon as this event took place, strange things began to happen.

She found she could no longer sleep. It was impossible for her to get rest, ever. It wasn't really sleep she wanted, but the blissful dreams that she used to have of owning the world and forcing men to steal stuff for her. The only person she had a heart for was herself, and the banjo, that happy-go-lucky friend of hers.

One night, some months after coming to the cottage, she decided it might be fun to kill a Dwarf. "I suggest you murder Death," said the banjo.

"It's not possible to do that," she said. "I don't know why, but there's an aura about him. I believe he's the oldest of these Dwarves, and that if we try to kill him, we'll end up dead ourselves."

"Can banjos die?"

"I wouldn't know. But I say we do Jolly. He's getting on my nerves."

"Has my mistress decided that killing her closest friend here will make her feel better?"

"He's not my friend," she whispered.

"Are you kidding? He's in love with you!"

"That's precisely why it must be him."

So saying, she took a brick that the Dwarves kept in their backyard, and slammed the brick into Jolly's head three times. She put her head to his heart to see if he was still breathing, but there was no sound there.

She defenestrated the body, and in an hour a boa constrictor was heard outside, swallowing his late night snack whole.

A new Dwarf appeared before long, and the banjo said, "You're name shall be Clueless."

Instantly, the name of the end of Jolly's bed changed, and the new one went to sleep. His name really befit him, for he didn't even wonder at the talking instrument.

"That was fun!" Snow-White said. "Let's do another!"

Melancholy, Unwise, and Angry all followed their brother the way to dusty death. I am told that foxes and vultures came for their own meals, like the snake.

More Dwarves took the places of the three. "Conceited, Lazy, Downcast," the banjo said, naming the trio.

"Isn't there a way to kill them without any ones cropping up to take their place?" asked Snow-White.

"I don't know. Maybe if you murder enough of them."

So she took the brick and put to death the four that had recently appeared, and more came along. They followed their brothers, one by one. Snow-White was bloodthirsty; I am told that she even drank some of the blood she spilt.

Dwarf and Dwarf followed suit, and even Gullible and Worried were added to the pile, and hyenas joined the packs of animals outside. Soon the banjo thought that trying different ways of killing them might work, like burning them to ashes. This was done, and yet them kept on coming.

At last, exasperated, Snow-White gave up. There were just too many, and they were always replaced.

The banjo sat thinking. Morning was approaching, and the girl knew that Death would be awake soon.

"I've figured it out," said her companion. "We shouldn't name the Dwarves before we kill them."

"Well, I suppose it's worth a shot," Snow-White said.

She took the brick and in a homicidial rage took the lives of the six current Dwarves (Cretin, Flabbergasted, Moldy, Slow, Out-of-Luck, and Swindler), and threw them out into the waiting claws, talons, and mouths of the creatures outside.

When the next batch of tiny men showed up, they stood in line expectantly. But instead of names, they were given countless blows, until they all fell like their brothers before them.

This time, no new Dwarves came, and the only sound that pervaded the silence was Death's snoring. But he could not sleep forever, and presently he opened his eyes.

"All right, men, let's go to the mountain and search for ore."

But not a sound was made in reply, and Death noticed that there were myriad empty beds in the house.

"Did they leave without me?" he asked Snow-White. "How inconsiderate of them! When I see them again, I'll be sure to punch someone in the nose."

Death got his pick and went outside; the creatures had gone home. He walked for a mile, and then he realized that there were no fresh footprints in the earth. So they couldn't have gone to work, but what? Then it dawned on him: Snow-White must've discovered their secret!

He vanished underground, and spoke to the Lord Master.

"Seven hundred Dwarves died last night," the latter said.

"Is their any way I can get new brothers?"

"No, Death. It is over. You know that if a Dwarf is unnamed, once he is dead, no one will replace him. You will be alone in the world. But, on the plus side, you'll be fabulously rich!"

Then, remembering the gold he was to earn, he grinned, and asked if he could send up his gold early and chat with the Lord Master. This was agreed upon, and in the cottage gold began to pour in, as if it were water. It came slowly and by degrees, rising and rising like the tide. The banjo was yelling triumphant phrases in the air, and for a few moments the gold on the floor went unnoticed. By the time Snow-White had realized what was happening, it was too late. She tripped over a mound of gold. Then more came behind her, covering her ankles. Standing up, she found that the treasure was already up to her knees, and she could not move. It kept on elevating, and presently her legs, her torso, and her arms were submerged. Only her head was above the suffocating gold. "Somebody help me!" she yelled. But it was pointless, for her chin, then her mouth, followed by her ears, fell under, and at last went her eyes.

When all of the Dwarf's gold were on the earth, and the cottage exploded from its weight, Death returned to the surface. He bought the castle that used to be Snow-White's and hung her body on the wall for all to see. The banjo was smashed on some rocks at Dover Beach, and Death smiled at the sound. Life was good, even without family.


End file.
